Chapter 28
It took way too fucking long, but Gunnar finally hit the Nizhny’s edge. His teeth chattered, but Tomas’s coat, soaked and frozen, insulated him from the worst of it. He limped, his muscles tight from head to toe. Kept the hood drawn tight, scarf wrapped around his entire face, and his posture hunched to make himself seem small. He had to expect Mateo at his best, while Gunnar was stumbling along at barely half of his capabilities.
He paused when he reached where he’d encountered Mateo. A lot of blood and mussed snow, but the man was gone. Gunnar kneeled at the spot, grunting at his body’s protests.
If Mateo meant to play this up, make some claim that Tomas was mad, that Gunnar died trying to fight him down, he’d have dragged himself bleeding to the tavern. If he’d been waiting to ambush Gunnar if he came back alive, injured and crippled by manticore venom, Gunnar would have smelled him by now, or they’d already be rolling in the snow.
No, he smelled healing potion, sticky-sweet. A few red drops spilled among the mess. And Mateo had made no effort to hide his tracks, which headed directly north up the rails.
This fucker . . .
Tomas had said he wanted Gunnar out of the way. He’d assumed it was the same shit they’d been whining about from the start, how Gunnar was being selfish and not wanting any other vileblood in his territory. No.
Mateo was after Audrey.
Gunnar lurched to his feet but only got a few steps before he caught Audrey’s scent on the wind. She’d left the station while he’d been after Tomas. He followed her footprints a few steps, saw the convergence. Mateo followed her, no signs of any kind of struggle, the tracks continuing toward their cabin.
With the rails under his boot, Gunnar moved fast, his head less foggy now. Pure, violent rage had that kind of effect on him. He kept the hunting knife Audrey gave him tight in his fist, tucked under the heavy, bloody fur coat.
Mateo needed to think he was Tomas for maybe five seconds. That might buy him enough time to get Audrey out of this fucking mess unscathed.
He coughed, cursed, but he could breathe deeper now, fuller. The wound on his back still burned like hells but was superficial compared to the venom and blood loss. His head pounded with each step, but each step put him closer, so each step fed the hatred threatening to consume any part of himself he ever considered human.
The cabin came into view, lights on. Nothing outside. Door shut. He hugged to the darker shadows, thanking whatever gods might be listening—which was none—for the cloud cover that had rolled in. Mateo’s fresh tracks ended on the front porch. A tangible silence hung over their house, as if the entire taiga held its breath.
Fuck, how long had she been in there with him?
His skin felt tight, hot. His joints ached, his jaw grinding.
If Mateo touched her . . . If he hurt her . . .
He smothered the growl before it erupted from his chest, struggling against the bloodlust threatening to unmoor him completely. He was a vileblood, a fucking monster like the one in his house right now, but he was in control of the beast that made up his darkness.
And he was going to use that control to make Mateo wish he’d never existed.
Gunnar stopped short, a quick glance in the window showing the medkit abandoned on the table. A chair overturned. A few of the books she’d had on the table carelessly tossed around to the floor. Aster’s vase of flowers, broken, the unnecessary water Audrey gave them puddled on the wooden floorboards.
Mateo came to her asking for help, pretending to be injured, and she’d let him in, because why wouldn’t she? Gunnar gave Rina the all clear. They’d lived in Nizhny for weeks, keeping their heads down, not causing any trouble.
Gunnar opened the door, didn’t stop. Not when he smelled human blood, her blood, not when he heard Mateo’s voice floating from down the hall.
“Tomas! Ha! I knew you’d do it! I can smell him, pet. He did it, killed that selfish fucker you holed up with.”
Gunnar’s eye twitched; focus. Smooth movements, no delay. He knew this house, knew exactly how many steps from the front door to her room, and crossed them in full strides, reaching her door as Mateo leaned out to greet Tomas, and he swore he heard Audrey’s voice, a low, desperate whine, and that was it.
Gunnar about climbed the walls as he charged, Mateo’s expression flickering from triumph to confusion to panic in a heartbeat, and Gunnar was on him, full body, slamming him back into Audrey’s bedroom.
She screamed, screamed like she was fucking alive, and Gunnar didn’t even look to confirm, instead eviscerating the threat. Headbutted Mateo in the face. Slammed him against the wall, lifted him bodily, hunting knife sliding like butter into his groin, savoring the guttural howl of pain and shock, and then threw all his muscle upwards, up, up, breaking through the sternum, gutting the fucker nuts to neck, viscera and organs slopping at his feet. Black blood sprayed as he reclaimed the knife and brought it down again, at the heart, then deep into the neck, then Gunnar let out a howl of his own as he severed Mateo’s spine, bending his neck back at the gaping hole, and sawing until he could drop the head, Gunnar’s chest heaving, the body falling limp to the floor.
Gunnar swayed, shoulder colliding with the wall, rolling so he rested his back against the doorframe for support, sucking in heaving, gulping drags of air, trying to taste his sunshine.
He wiped his face, smearing the mess around, but there she was.
Audrey stood on the far side of her bed. There were scratches on her delicate forearms, bruising already staining her soft skin around her wrists. Her beautiful eyes were wide, red and puffy from crying, her hands clutched over her heart.
Black blood had sprayed everywhere. On her bedsheets, the wall, the ceiling. Spreading over the floorboards toward her bare feet. Dotting her clothes. Staining her.
She swallowed a few times, her voice hoarse. “Jonathan?”
Gunnar cursed under his breath, yanking off the scarf, throwing the hat across the room. “Yeah, it’s me, Audrey. It’s me.”
She blinked, shuddering violently. She clutched her shirt tighter. “He said you were dead. He said he smelled his brother and your blood, that you . . .” A sob, her entire body spasming with it.
“Audrey, sweetheart, I’m here.” He didn’t move though, didn’t go to her. Fucking hells, blood and viscera covered him from head to toe.
Shit, she’d just watched . . . that.
But before he could gather his painfully scattering thoughts, Audrey crossed the room, burying her face in his chest. He almost pulled back. He didn’t want her covered in this fucking mess, but she held tighter. “He said you were dead.”
Gunnar pulled her closer. He couldn’t stop himself, arms tight around her, pressing his face into her hair. “You’re safe, sweetheart. I’m here. I’ve got you.”
He tried to peel back; he wanted to make sure she was alright, but she just buried herself tighter against him every time he shifted.
“Audrey, did he hurt you? Baby, are you okay?” He gathered her face in his bloody hands, but her eyes stayed scrunched closed as she shook her head. He couldn’t tell if that was an answer or not. She trembled against him.
“There was so much blood. I thought he was hurt. I let him in and got the healing kit and then he . . .” She shook her head again. “He told me you’d be out of the way, then he smelled Tomas, and you . . .”
“I’m not dead,” Gunnar growled, and her eyes blinked open. He tried to smooth away the tears, but they kept coming, and his gloves left an inky mess on her cheeks. He grimaced; fuck, she was covered in vileblood. The room was drenched.
Gunnar scooped her up and stepped into the hallway, shutting the door behind him. Mateo could wait; he needed to make sure Audrey was okay, and right now all the pain and fear and panic in her scent damn near overwhelmed him.
He put her at arm’s length, and she sagged against the wall, grabbing at his arm as he struggled out of his coat and dropped it on the floor in a filthy heap. As soon as he did, she was back against his chest, her little hands clinging to his shirt.
“Audrey, we’re a mess. Come on, let me get you in the shower.”
He tried to move her into the bathroom, and her scent spiked so hard with raw fear, Gunnar’s heart stuttered.
“Don’t leave,” she whispered as she grabbed at him with shaking hands. Shit, he’d never seen her like this, not even when her apartment burned to the ground by hellfire. She babbled on, her voice hoarse. “I don’t want to live anywhere else. I want to be with you. Don’t leave me. Don’t—”
A knock thundered on their front door like a battering ram, and Gunnar put his body between her and the sound.
“Little! Gunnar!”
Zhadan. Hells, he’d never been so glad for that damn oaf, and a second later the chuchuna kicked in the door, his wide nostrils flaring. When he saw Gunnar, he bared his teeth and took in the mess in their front room.
“Smelled blood. Little?”
“She’s here, she’s okay.” Gunnar took a steadying breath; Zhadan understood Russian better than English. “Fucking Mateo tried to take me out, used Tomas going blood mad as, I don’t fucking know, some kind of opening.>>” He tilted his head down the hall toward the closed bedroom door, black leaking from underneath. “He’s dead. Tomas is alive. He’s waiting for someone to come bring him in.>>”
Zhadan snarled, loud enough to rattle the window glass. Gunnar blinked a few times, gritting his teeth as Zhadan took a few steps closer—but not close enough to be a threat.
Because he wasn’t, he was an ally. A . . . friend. Audrey mattered to Zhadan too, and he . . . Gunnar was still fucked up. And she needed him, and hells if she hadn’t told him repeatedly they weren’t alone here in Nizhny.
Gunnar swallowed, gritting his teeth as he managed, “I need help.>>”
“Anything>>,”Zhadan snorted out, not a lick of hesitation, the chuchuna’s scent washed in worry and conviction. “How help?>>”
“Get to Rina while I make sure Audrey’s okay. Tell her about Tomas. Innocence will want to know about the kid too. I’ll deal with the rest.>>”
The chuchuna chuffed out an affirmative, a deep frown creasing his enormous mouth as his gaze drifted to Audrey, and then he stomped out of the house, slamming the door behind him.
“Just us now,” Gunnar said gently, keeping his voice a low rumble deep in his chest.
“Don’t leave me,” she whispered, her voice broken.
“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart. I promise.”